


Office Hours

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (and also some booty), Ficlet, Modern Thedas AU, Multi, Professor!Solas, friend fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imogen camps out in Solas’s office between classes, and they come across a very surprising ad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Hours

“ _Fuck_ me, did you know Qunari-blooded kids can weigh up to _twenty pounds_ at birth?”

“Language, Miss Trevelyan,” Solas said automatically, not raising his eyes from the essay he was grading.

Imogen occupied the chair opposite Solas’s desk, her feet propped on the bookshelf across from her, and her eyes glued to her laptop. She did this often: parked herself in his office between classes, ostensibly to work, though Solas was not certain that he had ever actually seen her do so. He had asked her once why she did this, and she had answered, simply, that he would feel terribly unloved if she didn’t.

Admittedly, she had a point, but it was still something of a distraction.

“Seriously, though,” she continued, heedless of his reprimand, “can you imagine it? Squeezing something _that_ big out of your vagina?”

“I’m afraid I lack the requisite anatomy.”

Imogen shuddered audibly, then fell mercifully silent again, having presumably moved on to another website. Only moments later, she let out an excited cry. “Oh! Look, here’s one of Alya’s _Solange’s_ ads!”

Before Solas could protest, she’d shoved the screen in his face.

His mouth went dry.

The ad showed Alya with her back to the camera, peering flirtatiously over her shoulder at the viewer. She was topless, a cascade of shiny black curls falling down her back almost to the twin dimples at the base of her spine, just below which rode the waistband of a pair of pink silk knickers that showed off a good deal more of her plump, round buttocks than they covered.

“She has a _fantastic_ ass.”

Yes. Yes, she did. Solas—a grown man who was absolutely, positively _not_ blushing—shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his trousers suddenly a bit too tight.

“I’m _so_ jealous,” Imogen said, pulling the laptop back and studying the screen, oblivious to his predicament. “I wonder what sort of exercises she does. Or do you figure it’s just good genes?”

Solas cleared his throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t know.”

“Can’t hurt to ask, I guess,” she said. “If it’s at all physically possible, I want _that_ ass in my wedding dress this summer.”

She went on for a bit about her fiancé, Cullen, their wedding plans, and their sisters’ domination thereof, but Solas was only half listening, still unable to shake the image of Alya Lavellan’s shapely backside out of his head.


End file.
